


Lotta's Boys

by NachtGraves



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Lotta's pov, M/M, Matchmaker Lotta, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Sick Fic, lotta's in college, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: Lotta loves her brother and his best friend, she just wishes they weren't so oblivious.
Relationships: Nino/Jean Otus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	Lotta's Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I started this after episode 3 or 4 came out and finally got my shit together and finished it! For some reason I thought Lotta was a college student and then recently watched Regards and realized she was in high school so we're going to pretend this is post-Regards and she decided to go to college.
> 
> hit me up on [tumblr](https://nachtgraves.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/nachtgraves)!

Lotta loves Jean, she really does. He’s a good brother, and a hard worker even if he complains about how his transfers never go through. He always brings back presents from the other districts, delicious treats to make up for the time he’s away.

She also loves Nino. He indulges her in exploring bakeries and restaurants and he gave her candy when they first met. He watches out for Jean when Lotta manages to ask him for a favor first.

She loves them both, dearly. If only they weren’t so stupidly oblivious.

* * *

Lotta’s making breakfast when Jean stumbles out of his room and into a chair at the kitchen table. Eggs and sausages sizzle in the pan and the toaster is set to go off in another minute.

“Morning,” she calls to him. “Did you sleep well?”

Jean nods but he looks exhausted. He’s been away again for work and only returned late last night. At least he has the day off, and even if he didn’t, one call to Owl would make sure he did.

“What do you want to drink?” Lotta asks, moving easily between the stove, toaster, and fridge. She has a system and when the toaster goes off, she is ready with a knife slathered with butter, jam standing by on the side. “I can start a pot of coffee, or we still have some of the tea you got from your last trip.”

“Coffee,” Jean mumbles. He rubs his face and stands up, bracing himself on the kitchen table. “I’ll make it, you want some?”

“Sure, thank you!”

Before long, breakfast is ready and plated. Lotta sips at her coffee and watches Jean eat as he skims the paper. His posture is lax and his eyes are glossy and droopier than usual and she wasn’t blind to the way he stumbled around the kitchen nor deaf to his attempts at covert sniffling.

“Jean, how long have you been sick?” Lotta questions. She sees the moment Jean tries to deny the accusation, but he’s learned in the past few years and only sighs.

“Not long. I think it’s just exhaustion and I should be fine after some rest,” he concedes. “I’ll be good to go back to work tomorrow.”

Lotta isn’t having it. “Well that’s tomorrow. Today, and right after you finish eating, you’re going right back to bed.”

Jean smiles and shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”

He doesn’t manage to finish his plate, barely able to do more than nibble on the toast and sip at his coffee. The eggs and sausages are barely touched. Lotta ushers him back to bed when he can’t make himself eat much more.

“I’ll make some porridge and see if we have any cold meds.” She brushes his hair from his face and worries her bottom lip. “You’re a little warm.”

Taking her hand in his, Jean links their fingers. “I’ll be fine, Lotta. I just need rest. There’s no use in you worrying yourself sick.”

Lotta pouts but she sighs and agrees. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to find medicine and make that porridge.”

Or so was the plan, but Lotta discovers that they’re out of any sort of cold medication. Lotta could pop out to grab what she needs but she doesn’t want to leave Jean home alone. He doesn’t fall sick often, but when he does, he falls hard.

“Ah, what to do…”

Her thoughts and contemplation are interrupted, however, by the buzz of a phone, her phone, sitting on the kitchen counter. She picks it up and sees that Nino’s sent her a bunch of photos. They’re all of a cat with gold fur. It’s asleep in the first picture but Nino must have woken it up since he catches the moment it blinks open blue eyes and yawns. Then it looks bored and unimpressed, but in the next picture something out of frame catches its attention. Its head is tilted and its tail is up and looks loose, not tight and puffed out in fear. Its blue eyes are wide and it stands facing Nino head on. In the next photo it’s munching on a small piece of bread, eyes shut in pleasure and Nino’s fingers rubbing its tiny head.

 _If Jean were a cat_ is the only accompanying text. It makes Lotta laugh because it’s far too accurate, and then she realizes her current dilemma is easily solved, and she can move on the solution to another one as well.

She calls Nino and he picks up almost immediately.

“Nino! Are you free right now? I need a favor.”

* * *

The doorbell rings and Lotta makes sure the chicken and ginger porridge won’t burn while she gets the door. Nino has perfect timing.

“Nino, you’re a lifesaver!” Lotta grins up at the photographer.

“Hi, I got some other things as well,” he says, holding up bags from the pharmacy. “Some energy drinks, pudding, jello. And some fever patches, because you know he runs high whenever he’s sick. They’re also good for headaches. And…what? Why are you looking at me like that.”

Lotta shakes her head, “Nothing! Nothing. You’re a really good friend, Nino.”

“Ah, thank you?” he replies.

“Thank _you_ ,” Lotta says. “Oh! Almost forgot about the porridge. I’ll take these, could you go check on Jean for me?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, taking the bags out of Nino’s hand and hurrying back to the kitchen. She quickly checks the porridge before putting away Nino’s shopping, noting he got all of Jean’s favorites, smiling when she hears Nino knock gently on Jean’s door and low murmurs follow.

Lotta’s just finished putting everything away and stirring the porridge when Nino comes out of Jean’s room. “Smells good.”

“I made extra if you want to eat with Jean,” Lotta says. She dips a spoon into the porridge and tastes it before frowning and adding a bit more salt. “It’ll be done in another five minutes. How’s he doing?”

“He’s definitely got a fever and needs a box or two of tissues within reach. If he tries to get out of bed, I’d suggest tying him down, duct taping if you don’t have any rope. There’s not a chance he’s going to be well enough to work tomorrow.”

“I know. The only person Jean is fooling is himself. I was going to call Owl later.”

“Good thinking,” Nino laughs. “You and Owl are the only people he’ll listen to.”

“He listens to you,” Lotta says casually, keeping her smile down when Nino scratches his cheek and looks away.

Nino clears his throat. “That’s debatable. You’re his beloved sister, Owl is like his second father, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“And you are one of the closest people in his life,” Lotta says. “And if you say anything less, you don’t get any porridge. Speaking of, get me two bowls. Oh, and there should be a tray in that cupboard over there.”

Nino does as bid and Lotta ladles porridge into the bowls while Nino fills up a glass of water and grabs the medicine he bought. Lotta puts everything on the tray and hands it off to Nino. “I already ate and have a couple things to do. Take this in and keep Jean company? There’s nothing worse than being sick and having to eat alone.” For good measure, she looks up at Nino with with a slight pouty frown.

Nino takes the tray from her. “As you wish, your highness.”

Lotta lightly smacks Nino’s arm. “Hush. Go feed your prince.” When Nino’s cheeks pink, Lotta has to turn her back on him in a pretense of being busy cleaning up to not give anything away.

She hears him walk away and the low murmurs pick up as he elbows Jean’s door open to walk inside. Lotta can’t help herself, far too curious and very invested. She sneaks over to the door and peeks through the crack. Nino’s got his back to her, bent over Jean’s nightstand to set the tray down. Lotta catches him smack Jean’s hands away with a spoon.

“Food first. And then you get two pills.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jean sulks, and if he’s being so openly pouty he’s definitely running a fever. “I want drugs.”

Nino laughs and Lotta presses her hand to her mouth to keep herself from being noticed. Jean’s turned towards Nino, all of his attention on the blue haired man.

“Just have a few bites. For Lotta, at least.” Nino puts one of the bowls in Jean’s hands and settles on the edge of the bed with the other bowl. “You’re not getting any drugs until at least a quarter of that is in your stomach.”

Jean huffs but he spoons a bite. “Don’t you have work today?”

“Being my own boss means I can take the day off whenever I want,” Nino replies. “Lotta called me and I know how you always overdo it when you’re sick. Lotta will guilt you into resting, but I have no qualms about manhandling you into bed.”

Jean’s flush becomes more pronounced and Lotta sees the moment Nino’s words registered to his own ears. His ears go pink and he freezes, back ramrod straight and tense. Even Lotta feels her cheeks grow warm at the easily misunderstood declaration.

“To force you to rest,” Nino hurriedly tacks on, clearing his throat. “You’ve got at least another day or two of bed rest with the state you’re in.” He swallows down a few bites of porridge while Jean just stirs his. “Your confinement will only be longer if you don’t eat something, Jean. No food, no drugs.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “I forgot how mean you are when I’m sick. Aren’t you supposed to be nicer?”

Lotta wishes she could see Nino’s face when he says, “What? Want me to feed you or something?”

Jean’s however, she sees clearly. Even his fever can’t explain how red he gets in the face, up to his ears, and his jaw drops, eyes wide. But he picks up his jaw by shoving porridge into his mouth and chewing, choking out a, “No.”

Lotta has to back away from the door so her barely restrained laughter doesn’t out her eavesdropping.

* * *

Lotta’s trying to work on an assignment for one of her classes on the couch when Nino comes out of Jean’s room.

“Nino!” She hops up, maybe a bit too eagerly. She looks for any sign of, she doesn’t even know what. Just a sign of something. She almost wishes she had continued to eavesdrop at the door.

“Lotta,” Nino returns, brows furrowing in wary confusion.

It’s incredibly hard to control her expression. She nods towards Jean’s bedroom, trying to change the subject. “Did he eat all the porridge?”

Nino gives her a suspicious look but doesn’t press. “Yeah. Once he started, he managed to get it all down. I gave him the pills and he was asleep by the time I finished stacking the bowls. ”

At the mention of bowls, Lotta goes to reach for them. “I can take those.”

Nino lifts the tray out of her reach and walks on to the kitchen. “It’s fine, I got it. What were you working on?”

“Readings for one of my classes.” Though she had kept looking up at Jean’s door and didn’t get much done. She follows Nino to the sink and despite his insistence grabs a bowl he finishes washing and dries it before putting it away.

“You have class tomorrow?”

“Yeah. My first class is at 11 and I’m usually gone through lunch until just before Jean gets home from work. I’ll just make something easy for Jean to grab and eat while I’m gone.”

Nino lingers with the spoons under the faucet. “I can come over again, if you want,” he offers. “I can cook and keep an eye on him, make sure he eats and doesn’t try and go to work while you focus on school.”

“But you’ve got work, don’t you?”

“I have two memory cards of photos to go through and then editing,” Nino says, dryly. “And you guys have a better coffee machine than I do.”

Lotta laughs. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great, Nino.” She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she squeezes him tight. “Thank you. I don’t know what Jean I would do without you.”

Nino hugs her back and ruffles her hair. “Don’t know what I’d do without you two, either.”

* * *

The next morning, after showering and getting dressed, Lotta checks in on Jean. She finds him out of bed going through his closet. Over his arm is a familiar black and red jacket. He’s reaching for one of his ties when Lotta clears her throat. He freezes and turns to meet her frown.

“I was going to shower?” he says and sniffles.

Lotta stares him down with her hands fisted at her hips until he sheepishly moves away from the ties and puts his jacket back on its hanger.

“I’ll call in sick,” Jean concedes. “But I’m still taking a shower.”

“Nino said he’ll be by in an hour,” she says, satisfied. “Do you want to eat in bed or in the kitchen?”

“Kitchen,” Jean answers. “Am I allowed coffee?”

“If you’re good,” Lotta teases and leaves to start a pot.

When Jean comes out of the shower, he’s dressed in lounge pants and an old shirt that swallows his frame. Lotta rewards him with a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal with chopped strawberries and blueberries. His appetite’s improved and he even asks for some toast and jam as Lotta makes some for herself.

“You know, I don’t need a babysitter,” Jean says once Lotta’s settled at the table, spreading jam on her toast.

“Maybe,” Lotta replies. “But it’s nice to have someone take care of you when you’re not feeling well.”

Jean smiles into his coffee. “Yeah. Nino’s been taking care of us for a long time now.”

“Mhmm.” Lotta peeks up at her brother. “When I was a kid, I thought I wanted to marry him.”

Jean startles, so surprised he starts coughing, and Lotta’s glad she waited until he had swallowed his coffee before throwing that at him. Even though it might be a bit of a test, it was true. She’d thought herself in love with her brother’s best friend who charmed her with candy when they first met and helped them through the loss of their parents while dealing with the loss of his own father. And even knowing the truth of how Nino came into their lives, Lotta is grateful for Nino’s presence. He might have been assigned to watch over them, but it was easy to see that his feelings went far beyond an assignment.

Lotta hands Jean a glass of water and Jean takes a few steady swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He clears his throat. “And, uh, do you still?”

“Oh no.” Lotta is quick to shake her head, laughing. “Not at all. I quickly realized I don’t love him like that. I love him like I love you.” She pauses, looks down, and adds casually, “But I do wonder who Nino would ever get married to. I’ve never even seen him in a relationship before.”

With perfect timing, the doorbell rings. Lotta all but bounces to the door to let Nino in and Jean mull over her words.

Nino’s running a hand through his hair, almost as if he were fixing it, when Lotta swings the door open. In place of his usual camera bag is a laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s got a plastic bag from a nearby convenience store in hand.

“Morning. Jean ate all the jello yesterday so I bought a few more,” he says. “They had a different flavor I thought he might like.”

Lotta just beams at him. “I’m sure he will. He’s in the kitchen finishing up breakfast. There’s extra oatmeal and fruit if you’re hungry.”

“I already ate, but thanks,” Nino says, toeing off his shoes before following Lotta to the kitchen to where Jean waves as Nino approaches.

“Morning.” Nino reaches over and puts the back of his hand against Jean’s forehead. Jean closes his eyes and sighs at the touch. “Your hand’s cold.”

“That’s because you’re burning up. Finish this and back into bed,” Nino tuts.

“Yes, sir,” Jean mocks, but he doesn’t move away from Nino’s hand and Nino lets his hand continue to rest against Jean’s skin.

Lotta hurries to put her back to the two so they don’t see her pleased grin.

When Lotta has to go, Jean’s convinced Nino to let him huddle on the couch with some jello instead of in his bed and Nino’s on the floor in front of him, laptop on the coffee table and the TV turned on to a baking show, the volume low.

* * *

She comes back several hours later to playful arguing in the kitchen. Jean’s wrapped up in a blanket at the kitchen table and Nino’s at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, heating up leftovers from their lunch. She’s just in time to be the tie-breaker on the matter of which bakery had the better tomato bread.

Neither boy is even close to being right and when Lotta provides the correct answer, they move to argue but pause, thinking, before admitting that she may be right.

“Of course I am,” she says, before coming around to kiss Jean’s cheek and see what Nino’s cooked because it smells delicious. They eat together, the boys filling Lotta in on what they did and Lotta talking about her classes. There’s laughter and smiles around the table and Nino and Jean keep looking to each other when they think no one else is watching.

* * *

Jean seems to be doing better the next day, but he’s still running a fever and overfilling wastebaskets with snot-filled tissues. Lotta’s only class is in the evening but she says she has a group project meeting during the day and Nino offers to come by again. She feels a little bad about lying but it’s for a good cause and is only validated when the doorbell rings and Jean insists on getting the door.

Lotta tiptoes after him and watches on as Nino’s expression softens as he greets Jean and Jean sways into Nino’s touch when Nino checks his temperature with his hand like the day prior. Nino’s face turns pink at Jean’s sigh, his smile soft and affectionate. “You seem better than yesterday.”

“Lotta won’t let me go to work though.”

Nino chuckles and brushes Jean’s hair back. His hand lingers before he takes it back and stuffs it into his pocket. “I said better, not fully recovered. Going to let me in?”

Lotta hurries away to not get caught and greets Nino when he’s passing the living room where she’s finishing up packing her bag for the day.

“What’re you two going to be up to today?” she asks.

“Finish a show we started yesterday?” Jean suggests, looking to Nino who makes no objections. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“I might be a little late, but yes,” Lotta answers. “But you don’t have to wait up for me if you get hungry.”

“I can cook something again. Save some for you when you get home so you don’t have to either,” Nino offers.

Lotta beams. “That would be great, if you don’t mind. We owe you, really.”

Nino shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Now you better get going or you’ll be late.”

Lotta pushes down the touch of guilt that spikes up. She’s just going to be going to a cafe near her school that she’s been wanting to try out with a few friends. But it’s for a good cause. “I’ll see you both tonight, then. Listen to Nino, Jean!”

She closes the door on Nino’s laughter and Jean’s mock-indignant shout that turns into hacking coughs and Nino’s worried alarm.

* * *

When Lotta gets home, she walks in on Nino coming out of the kitchen, which isn’t unusual but for the fact that he’s carrying Jean, one arm under Jean’s knees and the other supporting his back. Jean’s asleep, head pillowed against Nino’s chest.

“He fell asleep at the kitchen table,” Nino says quietly. “Just taking him to bed.”

And that’s all fair and innocent. It’s not the first time Lotta’s seen Nino carry Jean, especially after their nights out drinking since Jean’s never been able to hold his liquor well. But Nino’s ears are red and he isn’t meeting Lotta’s gaze, and he’s never carried Jean like this before.

“I’ll get the door,” is all Lotta says and she leads the way to Jean’s room, holding the door as Nino maneuvers through it sideways so Jean’s legs don’t hit the door frame.

Lotta hurries after to pull back Jean’s sheets and Nino gently lays Jean down. They both freeze when Jean grumbles, rolls onto his side facing Nino and grabbing onto Nino’s arm. Nino almost falls on Jean but catches himself against the headboard, braced over Jean who shifts around, ends up hugging Nino’s arm to his chest before he’s finally content and relaxes.

Lotta bites her lip to keep from giggling. Nino looks like he can’t pick between being panicked and thoroughly endeared.

Nino waits a beat before he slowly wiggles his arm free. Jean frowns, whines in the back of his throat but Nino frees himself and Jean doesn’t wake up. Only grumbles before turning over onto his other side and nuzzling into his pillow. He looks upset for a moment before his face smooths out in sleep.

Lotta and Nino quickly and quietly leave Jean to it, Lotta closing the door behind them with a quiet _click_.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Lotta says innocently, glancing up at Nino.

Nino scratches the back of his head, his cheeks dusted light pink. “He’s just sick.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of the matter. Lotta doesn’t do anything to help.

* * *

Day three of Jean’s cold he’s doing a lot better. His coughs aren’t as harsh and his sneezing and sniffling has reduced considerably. He’s still feverish and tired though but will probably be well enough to return to work by tomorrow. Lotta’s somewhat impressed he didn’t fight so much to go to work earlier but she has a feeling she knows the cause.

Nino comes over again in the afternoon with a bag of the best tomato bread in Badon and a sheepish smile. Lotta had only had a morning class and Jean had still been asleep when she got home. There weren’t any plans for Nino to come over and help again, but like with Jean, she isn’t all that surprised.

“How’s Jean?” he asks, following Lotta to the kitchen so she can cut the bread and make some tea to go with it.

“Much better,” she replies. “Oh can you get me a plate? And a small bowl? But yes, his fever’s almost completely gone.”

Nino grabs a large plate and Lotta arranges the sliced bread on it. She goes into the fridge and grabs what she needs to make a quick salsa to go with the bread. Nino helps, getting olive oil and salt and helping her chop the vegetables. They work together and Nino asks about her class that morning and Lotta asks after his work and any upcoming assignments for the newspaper he’s freelancing for.

He’s talking about a work trip he’s going on next month to Dowa and then Suitsu, in the middle of promising to bring back regional specialties, when Jean stumbles into the kitchen. “Lotta, have you seen my—Oh, Nino?”

“Hey, J—!” Nino cuts himself off with a bitten back curse. Metal clatters and alarm blooms on Jean’s face.

Alarmed, Lotta turns to check on Nino and the first thing she sees is blood. It’s all over Nino’s fingers, the cutting board, and the cilantro he’d been chopping. She quickly ushers him to the sink and tells Jean to go and get their first aid kit. Luckily, the blood had made the cut look worse than it actually was and doesn’t look like a trip to the emergency room.

“Hold this to the cut,” Lotta says, handing Nino a paper towel. She has him sit at the kitchen table just as Jean returns with the first aid kit.

“Here.” Jean sets the kit on the table and opens it up. He takes out the packet of antiseptic wipes and a box of waterproof bandages, pulling out a strip and removing the wrapping.

“You’re sick, why are you running around with wet hair and no shirt?” Nino doesn’t look at Jean.

“I was looking for the flannel shirt you got me a few birthdays ago.”

Lotta knows exactly which shirt Jean’s talking about. It’s the softest thing he owns because of how often he wears it. It’s about two and a half sizes too big and always sliding off one of his shoulders. Nino’d offered to exchange it for a size that fits but Jean said he was happy with it as is. And he has been. He’ll always wear it when he’s not feeling well or wants to have a comfy, lazy day. Lotta’s also noticed he tends to pull it out when Nino’s away for work and they don’t see him for a while. She’s not sure Jean’s aware of that particular habit.

“It’s in the dryer, I haven’t had a chance to fold up the laundry yet. Take care of Nino, I’ll go find it.”

Jean’s in the middle of saying no but Lotta’s already up and heading to their laundry closet, leaving Nino with Jean. She finds the shirt quickly, shaking out the wrinkles, before returning to the kitchen. She hides for a moment at the corner before revealing herself.

Jean’s taken her seat and is in the middle of applying a bandage to Nino’s finger. Nino’s looking everywhere but at Jean, or at least trying to. His flushed face is angled to the side but his eyes keep drifting back to Jean bent over carefully applying the bandage.

“There.” Jean sits up and Nino takes his hand back.

“It’s really not a big deal, I could have taken care of it myself,” Nino says. “Seriously, where’s your towel, you need to dry your hair. And put on a shirt.” There’s a hidden _please_ , tense, just shy of desperate.

Lotta makes her appearance then, brandishing Jean’s shirt. “Found it. Here. And Nino’s right, you should to dry your hair. It’s still dripping, Jean.”

“Okay, okay.” Jean takes the shirt. “I left my towel in the bathroom.” He heads back to his room while tugging the shirt on.

Lotta and Nino share a fond, commiserating look at Jean’s behaviour. There’s no one else he’d behave spoiled and childish in front of, whether he was sick or not.

While Jean dressed and dried his hair, Lotta returns to the almost finished salsa. She cleans up the bloodied cilantro, staring Nino back into sitting when he tries to get up and help. They still have plenty of the herb left and Lotta quickly chops enough to finish up the salsa, adding a squeeze of lemon as a finishing touch.

Jean returns with his shirt buttoned up but the neckline hangs low on his sternum and the sleeves inch just past his fingertips. His towel is hanging around his shoulders and while his hair looks more ruffled than it had been, it’s still visibly damp.

“Oh come here,” Nino says. He pulls the towel from Jean’s shoulders and shepherds him to a chair, sitting him down and standing behind him. He drops the towel on Jean’s head and starts properly drying his hair.

“I’m sick, not a child,” Jean grumbles, but he laughs and he tilts his head to make it easier for Nino and Nino’s got a smile of his own. Lotta finishes the salsa and heats slices of the tomato bread for a few seconds on the stove, just to lightly toast them before setting them on a large plate around the bowl of salsa.

Nino’s done with Jean’s hair when she sets the snack on the table. “There we go. Oh, what do you boys want to drink?”

“Sit down, Lotta,” Nino says. “I can make a pot of tea for all of us.” Lotta goes to argue, but Nino folds Jean’s towel over the back of Jean’s chair and rounds the table to gently guide Lotta into a chair, his hands on her shoulders. “I cut my finger, _barely._ Just, relax.” He goes to fill up the kettle and pull out three mismatched mugs, Lotta’s favorite, Jean’s favorite, and the one the Otuses bought specifically for Nino. “How’s that project going?”

“Oh, uh, good.” The question catches her off-guard, takes her a moment to remember the little lie from earlier. She busies herself from the lie by helping herself to bread and salsa. “We’re pretty much done.”

Jean’s watching her from across the table, a brow slightly raised. “What’s it about again?”

“Just something for my poli-sci class.” Lotta takes a large bite of bread so she can’t talk anymore. Jean’s eyes narrow slightly and Lotta widens hers innocently.

When Nino joins them, tea brewed and made to each person’s liking, he looks between the two siblings. “Did I miss something?”

“Just the bread. Told you it’s the best tomato bread in the city,” Lotta chirps. She doesn’t respond to Jean’s suspicious look over his mug.

* * *

With the exception of a few sniffles and the odd cough, Jean makes a full recovery and is back to work by the end of the week. He could have used up another sick day and just gone back in on Monday, none of his coworkers or Owl would mind and in fact encourage it, but as much as Jean complains of his transfers never going through, he’s got his fair share of workaholic tendencies.

Lotta’s preparing dinner when Jean gets home.

“Hey! Wash up and help me with dinner. I’m making pasta.”

“Hey, yeah, give me a minute,” Jean replies. His gaze drifts around the apartment, looking for someone, and Lotta can tell it’s an unconscious action. She doesn’t say anything until Jean’s swapped his uniform for comfy pajamas and is by her side grilling chicken.

“Got used to having Nino around,” she says idly. “Reminded me of the past.” Even though she has ulterior motives, it’s an honest comment. Nino and Jean were attached at the hip when they were in high school and even through college despite their different departments. Granted, Nino had an agenda, but the relationship he forged with her and Jean and even their parents was authentic.

Jean laughs. “If Nino wasn’t over, I’d be at his.”

“And he always brought me treats or sent you back home with them.”

Jean hip checks her gently. “So easily bribed by baked goods and sweets.”

Lotta checks him back. “At least I get something in exchange. Nino just has to smile at you and you’ll do whatever he says.”

It may have been too direct, but Jean flusters and nearly flings a piece of chicken breast into the wall. He composes himself, or at least tries to. “That’s—he’s my best friend.”

Lotta could continue to press, but fast-tracking a decade of mutual pining and obliviousness is a delicate matter and she can’t push too much too quickly. “We should do something to thank him, though, for helping out this past week.”

“You know Nino’ll brush any thanks off.”

“Yes, but we could treat him to dinner or something. It’s been a while since we all went out for a nice meal anyway.”

She can tell Jean’s considering it, more than considering it. His hesitation is from trying not to seem too eager, but his unconscious smile and excited energy betray him.

“True.” His lips purse in thought before he seems to recall something. “He mentioned a hotpot place near the park he wants to try. Early dinner on Sunday?”

“We haven’t had hotpot in forever! I’ll invite him.”

“No!” Jean rushes. His ears warm as he collects himself, “I mean, I can tell him. I was the one he, and you, had to deal with. Let me handle everything.”

Lotta bites back her grin. “If you insist. Why don’t you call him now? I can finish up here.”

Jean hesitates for a moment but hands over the spatula and goes off to get his phone. Lotta lowers the heat to medium and keeps her ears open when Jean’s call connects. She stifles a laugh when Jean’s voice cracks at his first attempt at _hello_.

“No, I’m fine,” he says after a pause. Lotta can imagine him rolling his eyes by his tone. He clears his throat. “Actually, I was, uh, well, Lotta and I were wondering if you were free Sunday night, say six? It’s been a while since we went out to eat together and you said you wanted to try that hotpot place. Yes, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t want to thank you anyway. Let me—us—treat you to dinner.”

It’s almost painful listening to Jean stumble and stutter and correct himself while doing something he’s obliviously done for years, but all Lotta wants is to hear Nino’s side of the conversation. She can imagine he’s doing no better than her brother.

“We’re treating you, Nino, whether you like it not.” After a pause, Jean’s voice softens. “Yeah, see you Sunday.”

* * *

Lotta and Jean walk up to the hotpot place to find Nino already there by the entrance. He’s in his usual turtleneck and jeans, but his combat boots have been swapped out for shiny leather loafers and he’s thrown on a fitted blazer. And he’s not alone. There are two girls giggling around him. Nino doesn’t seem as interested in whatever their conversation keeps glancing at his phone. Jean starts slowing down.

Lotta is not about to have silly misunderstandings detract or even slow down her progress with the two boys, especially when they’ve been doing so well. Jumping up and waving, she calls out, “Nino!” and hurries over. Nino’s face lightens in a sincere smile and he excuses himself from the girls.

Lotta runs into Nino with a full bodied hug, wrapping her arms around Nino’s waist. She peeks around him to the girls who are looking on in disappointment and barely holds back from sticking her tongue out at them as they turn around and walk away. She looks back up at Nino. “Did you wait long?” They aren’t late, but they’re not early like they usually plan to be. Jean had a crisis over what shirt to wear, though he won’t admit it. But the shirt Lotta helped him pick brings out his eyes and accentuate his waist and Nino’s eyes are fixed on him.

“Just got here myself,” Nino says almost absently. Lotta pulls out of the hug and waits for Jean to catch up to them. When he does, the two just stare at each other after saying quiet ‘ _hi’_ s like they’re high schoolers on their first date. Lotta considers pretending to have an emergency and have to leave the two alone for dinner. But they’ll have plenty of time for dates without a little sister third-wheeling in the future. Besides, she read the reviews for the restaurant and had been looking forward to trying several dishes all weekend.

“I’m starving,” she chirps, jarring the two out of their little world. “Let’s go in? I looked them up and they have rolled ice cream.”

The two laugh at that, Nino ruffling Lotta’s hair. “That’s how I heard about this place. A client recommended the matcha.”

“Let’s have dinner before we start thinking about dessert,” Jean says. He leads the way into the restaurant while Lotta shares a knowing look with Nino. They never leave without ordering dessert, even if they have to take it home for later.

They get a booth against the wall, glossy black with cushioned benches. Nino takes a seat on one side, Jean slides into the other, and Lotta beside Jean. Nino tries to keep his orders simple and towards the cheaper end but Jean orders all of Nino’s favorites for him, Nino glaring from across the table and Lotta laughing at their antics. They end up with a spread that’s more than enough for three, maybe even four. Nino takes charge of cooking until both Lotta and Jean bat his chopsticks away and Jean threatens to confiscate Lotta’s to preside as designated hotpot cook.

At first, there’s visible awkwardness between Nino and Jean, the two taking turns at being flustered and sneaking glances when the other isn’t looking. It’s adorable if ridiculous. But eventually, conversation flows smoothly as they argue over when a vegetable or meat is done and Jean forgetting to give himself food once it’s ready. Jean gripes about trips, talks fondly about the new addition to his team even though the new kid makes Jean feel like he’s a hundred years old.

“Imagine that,” Nino says with wry grin.

Jean kicks him gently under the table. “You could pass for being younger than me.”

Nino laughs like it’s a joke, but Jean’s right. Ever since he revealed the truth, he’s stopped hiding the signs of his age but Lotta still thinks he looks of an age with Jean, and not nearly a decade older. He’d looked closer in age to _Lotta_ when he spiked his hair and hid the creases around his eyes. Even the bits of silver coming into his hair didn’t age him much. Jean’s grays were just better hidden in his blond hair.

They steadily eat and soon there’s nothing but the broth left. Nino finishes his glass of water and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “That was great. Thank you both.”

“This was our thank you,” Jean says, “So no _thank you_ s from you tonight.”

Nino rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling wide enough his crows feet he’d worn glasses to hide make an appearance.

Lotta leans back and sighs happily. “I’m so full. One of you will have to carry me home.”

“Too full for dessert?” Jean teases. But when he flags down their waiter to ask for their bill, he asks for three orders of their rolled ice cream to-go.

When they step outside, Nino walks with them to the curb to flag down a cab. They catch one fairly quickly, it was still early enough in the night on a Sunday, and Jean slides in first, Lotta right behind him.

“What’re you doing, get in,” Lotta says when Nino bends into the open door and tries to say goodnight. She lightly shakes their bag of take out. “We’ve got ice cream to eat.”

Nino seems to hesitate but he looks past Lotta’s shoulder and his mouth quirks into a reluctant smile before he gets in and closes the door behind him. Lotta looks up and catches Jean’s expression in the rear view mirror, a pleased little grin, as he tells the driver their address.

When they get home, they make their way to the living room to enjoy their dessert. Lotta hands out the three plastic boxes—strawberry for Jean, chocolate for Nino, and matcha for herself—and the packed plastic spoons and get settled along the couch. Lotta takes the corner and grabs the TV remote. She puts on an episode from a food documentary series she’s been watching after Jean and Nino say they’re fine with anything and gets comfortable.

The three watch the episode, which takes place in Rokkusu, and eat their dessert in a comfortable, cozy silence with occasional commentary on something the show covers. Nino recognizes an area in one of the b-roll footage from a freelance job a while ago and Jean asks someone to remind him to check out one of the places the show mentions the next time he’s in the state for work.

They lose track of time, or at least Jean and Nino do, ending up more invested in the series than Lotta, her scheming aside. Ice cream long finished, empty containers left to be dealt with later on the coffee table, the two had sunk into the couch, and, as time went on, seemed to drift towards one another. Nino’s arm is stretched along the back of the couch, a hair’s breath from Jean’s neck and Jean’s drawn his legs up, knees directing his body towards the photographer. Neither seem to notice the way the space between them has been gradually diminishing. Lotta almost doesn’t want to disrupt the moment, but it is a Sunday night. Besides, there’ll be more nights.

About a quarter of the way through a third episode, Lotta yawns and stretches, and makes startled noise when she makes a point to check the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

Nino looks up. “Oh wow. You’re right. I should get going.” He sits up and pulls away from Jean, starting to clean up.

But Jean stops him, reaching out and catching Nino’s arm. “It’ll be even later by the time you get back to your place,” he says. “Stay the night.”

Nino starts to shake his head. His eyes flash down to Jean’s hand curled around his bicep and he wavers.

Lotta goes for the second of weakness. “You’d have to wait for a cab and everything. Here. I’ll take care of that. Jean, get the blankets and prepare the couch and find something for Nino to sleep in.”

Before either can say another word, Lotta sweeps up the take-out containers to dispose of them in the kitchen. When she walks by the living room on her way to her room, Jean’s got an armful of blankets and Nino’s arranging pillows and cushions. She hides around the corner, just to observe.

Jean drops the collection of blankets on the coffee table, says, “I can sort this. Grab something of mine and take my bed tonight.”

“I’m perfectly fine with the couch.”

“It’s not good for your back,” Jean counters.

“Couch isn’t any good for your back either.”

“But you’re much older than me, remember,” Jean teases. Nino throws the pillow he’s holding at Jean, who catches it just before it hits him in the face. He’s grinning as he lowers it and hugs it to his chest. “But really. We dragged you out and brought you here.”

Nino walks over and reaches for the pillow. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” he says softly, Lotta almost can’t make out the words. Louder, her says, “Now give me that. One night on the couch won’t kill me. Besides, your couch is comfortable.”

Feeling guilty, like she’s intruding (she’s aware she’s being nosy and spying already) Lotta quietly makes her way to her room to get ready for bed.

* * *

An hour or so before her alarm is set to go off, Lotta wakes up, thirsty. She considers just going back to sleep but gets up and shuffles out of her room to go grab a glass of water from the kitchen. All the lights are off, only the faint glow of the sun rising bleeding through the drawn curtains lighting the apartment. She gets her water and makes to head back to her room to read for a bit before getting ready for the day, makes a slight detour to check in on whoever ended up taking the couch for the night.

She’s careful to tiptoe as she nears the living room but notices a distinct lack of blankets and middle-aged man on the couch. The bathroom door is cracked open, lights off, unoccupied. Frowning, she detours to the front door but all shoes are accounted for, Nino’s loafers lined up neatly next to Jean’s.

Confused, she walks back to her room. The boys will turn up for breakfast. As she passes by Jean’s door, it quietly swings open and Jean comes out, already dressed for work, coat folded over his arm. His eyes widen at seeing Lotta and he closes the door quietly behind him. “Morning,” he whispers. “You’re up early.”

Lotta shakes her glass of water, matches his quiet tone. “Thirsty.” She doesn’t point out that he’s up and dressed earlier than usual as well. “Where’s Nino?”

To Lotta’s surprise, Jean’s ears turn bright red and he glances off to the side. “He’s, uh. We argued about who would take the couch last night. Comprised and shared my bed.” He adds, almost a little defensively, “It’s big enough. He’s using my bathroom.”

Lotta does her absolute best not to betray her thoughts on her face. Jean’s bed is big enough for two, but only just. Especially when the two people are men over 180cm. “I was thinking pancakes for breakfast? We have chocolate chips, I think. I just need to wash up.”

Jean seems relieved that Lotta doesn’t comment on what he’d revealed. “ I got it, you go get ready for the day.”

“Okay, thanks. Start some coffee too, please?”

Jean nods with a smile and ruffles her hair before heading off to make breakfast for everyone. When Lotta’s done getting ready, she comes back into the kitchen to Jean pouring pancake batter into a pan and Nino nursing a mug of coffee at Jean’s side, looking down at her brother with the softest, fondest expression as Jean talks too quietly for Lotta to make out the words.

She quietly tiptoes back to her room. She can take a little longer to get ready.

* * *

The next week or so go by with nothing too unusual. Jean ends up appointed to staff a recruitment table at a local high schools’ career fairs for the next week or so with the new kid and ends up coming home earlier than usual. Nino’s out of town for a job and swinging by Jumoku to get some photos of a local festival that will coincide with his travels. And Lotta prepares for her upcoming exams. She spends more time at school or the library, her food science class has a standing study group session twice a week before the final, coming home late enough that Jean’s taken charge of meals so Lotta can focus on school.

After the last study session that had ended up running later than usual since they all decided to treat themselves to dessert crepes as a reward for all their studying, Lotta cheerfully makes her way home. She can’t wait to tell Jean about the food truck, knowing he’d love the strawberry cream with lemon drizzle option and Nino the double chocolate brownie.

“I’m home!” Lotta calls out, closing the door. She toes off her shoes and puts them away, noticing a familiar pair of boots. “Nino, I didn’t know you—!”

Clapping both her hands to her mouth, Lotta stares at the scene in the living room, lit by the soft golden late-afternoon sun, doing her best not to make any further noise.

Cuddled up together on the couch are Jean and Nino, fast asleep. Jean’s wrapped up in his favorite blanket and curled up against Nino, using Nino’s shoulder as a pillow. Nino’s got his arm around Jean, his cheek resting against Jean’s head, his breath gently fluttering Jean’s hair with each exhale. In the late afternoon glow, they look soft and peaceful and Lotta’s grateful she didn’t accidentally wake them up.

She means to quietly leave, go back out and kill some time at the bakery or a cafe. Let the two continue their nap, wake up without interruption, have some time to themselves. Knowing Jean, knowing the both of them, really, if Lotta were home, any further progress would be halted if not undone.

But the scene is too sweet to not capture for the future.

Doing her best to be as quiet as possible, Lotta digs out her phone from her bag, wincing at every little sound that seems to echo ten times louder than usually. She quickly pulls up her camera app and lines up the shot, zooming in to frame the two men perfectly. She takes the photo and freezes in horror when she realizes she forgot to make sure her phone was on silent as the shutter sounds.

For a long second, Lotta holds her breath. Jean’s forehead creases in a frown. His nose scrunches up. But he turns his head, snuggles further into Nino’s and his expression smooths as he lets out a light snore and his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. Lotta closes her eyes, breathes a sigh of relief.

When she opens them, she meets Nino’s gaze.

Lotta fumbles her phone but just manages to catch it and hug it to her chest. Nino’s lips quirk into a held back laugh. In his arms, Jean shifts and mutters a quiet groan. To Lotta astonishment, Nino murmurs to her brother, words too quiet for her to make out, and lifts the arm that’s around Jean’s shoulders to stroke Jean’s hair. Jean smiles, mumbles something back but it must get lost in Nino’s shirt. When he’s settled again, Lotta’s heart is full and she can’t help her smile even if she wanted to. Nino looks up at her and there’s a light flush on his cheeks. He brings his other hand up, holds his index finger to his mouth. Lotta returns the gesture, grinning wide, and tiptoes back to the door.

Lotta is all smiles when she goes to her favorite cafe. She just shakes her head, lips sealed, when asked if anything happened by the familiar cashier. She orders a slice of her favorite cake and drink and fights the urge to text her grandfather, Owl, and Maggie. She can’t wait for Jean to tell her. Wonders if Nino will tell him Lotta saw them.

Almost an hour later, she gets a text from Nino asking if she would be fine with curry for dinner. He was spending the night and wanted to cook for them.

Lotta is more than happy with curry, and tells him so. She also says she’ll bring dessert. When asking for her check she asks for a to-go order of one of their small chocolate cakes that’s easily shared between three people, though Nino could polish off more than half on his own if he let himself.

 _Looking forward to it. See you soon_ , he replies. He also asks if she can send him a copy of the picture she took.

 _Nope!_ she replies, without any explanations. She’s already decided to get the photo printed and framed as part of her engagement gift to them. Hopefully that doesn’t take another fifteen odd years.


End file.
